English usage is sometimes more than mere taste, judgment and education – sometimes it’s sheer luck, like getting across the street. – E.B. White, American writer
When it comes to saying what you mean, punctuation often is as important as the words themselves.
Humorous examples abound of what happens when a lowly comma is omitted.
For instance, look at these two sentences:
“Time to eat, kids.”
Then, omit the comma, and the result, “Time to eat kids” is a cannibalistic thought even the most neglectful parent would not contemplate.
Or this magazine cover headline about celebrity cook Rachel Ray:
“Rachel Ray finds inspiration in cooking her family and her dog.”
Not all that appetizing, is it? But, a couple of commas, and voila! “Rachel Ray finds inspiration in cooking, her family, and her dog.” (Turns out the magazine cover was a fake, which is probably why it went viral.)
Sometimes phrases, not just commas, make all the difference. A number of years ago the South Dakota Legislature passed a bill that affected meatpacker Morrell’s ability to purchase livestock outside the state.
The measure included this sentence: “A packer purchasing or soliciting livestock for slaughter in this state may not discriminate in prices paid or offered to be paid to sellers of that livestock.”
The legislator’s intent was to protect South Dakota producers, but in court, it was determined that the measure included all livestock purchased, even that outside the state, and Morrell’s challenged the law as an unconstitutional restraint of interstate commerce.
Morrell’s won the case. As written, the key phrase, “in this state,” modifies the word “slaughter” and therefore meant that any livestock, even that purchased outside of South Dakota, would be subject to the law. The phrase would have to be placed after the word “livestock” to mean only animals purchased in South Dakota.
And who is burdened with making sure the punctuation and phrases are correct? The Legislative Research Council, a state agency that drafts bills for state lawmakers.
Taking into account that as many as 600 bills may be introduced, that can mean a lot of commas, phrases, and other minefields characteristic of the English language.
There are 22 full-time LRC employees, the smallest agency of its kind in the nation, said Jason Hancock, director.
Smallest doesn’t mean “last,” as we South Dakotans hear all too often.  In fact, given the flood of words that lawmakers labor to introduce each session – and the absence of lawsuits focusing on language – we can be thankful for the dedicated employees of the LRC and simply say, well done!

Easter—a time for new beginnings. My life heads in new directions and so my column has to have a new title. Since the Burlington Northern is a stone’s throw from Dr. Krog’s abode, the general consensus is for this new moniker.
The painting process has begun with the help of Georgia, who was born with a paintbrush in her hand. She is like a professional home interior decorator and she doesn’t charge a dime. My landlord, Kent, was aghast at the rust color I chose for the laundry room and declared it looked like a pumpkin. Thanks to Eric Hill for installing my shades, which I am completely inept at.
I am driven this spring to de-clutter and simplify my household even more. Every magazine is filled with not only recipes, but right beside them, diet stories of people who have lost a 100 pounds and de-cluttering hints. One memorable hint was to pick up each item and if it doesn’t feel magical, ditch it. (Maybe I’m confused and that was a Harry Potter book.)
Spring has also brought on the urge to set goals for myself. One such goal is to hike Harney Peak (and make Cole proud). Another aspiration is to renew my love of bike riding. I have been watching Shain Knutson’s amazing progress of getting into shape and burning up the highways on his bicycle. I’m setting my sights on completing the Tour de Corn in Mitchell. I told Heather I might have to hide my scooter at the halfway point in a cornfield in case I poop out. I have ridden to work a few times. The first day it was 27 degrees, and I really regretted that decision. I can already tell my butt cheeks need a major rejuvenation.
I was so glad the sun showed its face once again on Easter Sunday. It’s always a bummer if kids have to put on snow pants and mittens to find the Easter eggs. Equally bad is having to hide them inside the house, although I have always been up for the old game of “Hide the Thimble”. Now many would be perplexed as to what a thimble is. I had to laugh at itsy bitsy Emery VonEye, who came “loaded for bear” for the Easter egg hunt. The other kids had small baskets, but she was dragging one as big as a three gallon bucket and bigger than her.
While watching the Swenson family egg hunt, I was standing beside Chad Eagle and happened to notice he had some really unusual sunglasses on. I kept my mouth shut about the gold emblem on the side and thought to myself, “Oakley’s must have a new line.” Later, someone did comment on his eyewear and he admitted he was wearing Gena’s! So, a manly man has a sensitive side. Hope he doesn’t wear them coon hunting.
Dee Baby

The “Ruby” issue of wearing the forbidden culottes in Forestburg High School had simmered and disappeared, I thought, but not really. It might be more accurate to say that the “tempest in a teapot” just went underground. It surfaced at the next school board meeting in the old gym. All five board members were present as were the superintendent and I. The administrator was Walter Brugger, the third of the three superintendents during my three years there.
Nothing was out of the ordinary as the meeting began. I had an “uh oh” moment when I saw “Ralph” and “Roseann” seat themselves off to one side. They were parents of the freshman girl who had recently defied a school dress code ruling but who had more recently capitulated in seemingly cooperative manner. There had to be a connection. Ralph was typically blunt and not at all bashful about expressing his opinions, and was obviously on the hunt. Roseann, as I knew her, was quiet and soft-spoken. Although a near neighbor as a girl, she was somewhat younger than I, and I do not recall that we had ever had a conversation. We simply traveled in different circles.
So, with Ruby’s set-to just a few days past, I quickly put two and two together to surmise that the fat would be in the fire. The superintendent knew nothing about my go-round with Ruby because I was in the habit of “skinning my own skunks” and had not informed him. I doubted that any school board member knew about the brewing broadside to be presented when visitors’ comments might be discussed. So, it was that Chairman Ray Judy turned to “Ralph” when board business was done and questioned, “Ralph, what can we do for you?”
The floodgates were open. Quickly moving to the attack, the obviously irate father lambasted an idiotic, expletive, expletive rule, which would prevent his daughter from wearing a decent, appropriate piece of clothing called a culotte. Of all the stupid rules the school board had approved! Ralph continued for a time, growing louder and more red-faced as he vented. When he finished letting the board know how he felt, he said he wanted the culotte rule changed—and changed right now! I have a clear memory that Ralph did not attack me personally, apparently realizing that I was just the enforcer, not the creator, of the offending rule.
Momentary silence reigned. I don’t recall whether Chairman Ray asked the other board members if they had any comments or whether they offered a response, but one member was in a particularly difficult spot. That member was in watermelon business with Ralph and he could see possible economic, even personal, trouble ahead. Mr. Brugger was, for all practical purposes, a bystander in the fracas. He was a new administrator, possibly not even realizing culottes existed in rulebook discussion and, as stated, not a participant in the Thomas/Ruby squabble. But Supt. Brugger had the presence of mind to suggest to the chairman that they had best discuss this sudden dust-up in executive session. Agreeing, the five board members, the superintendent and I adjourned to an upstairs classroom.
Chairman Ray turned to me for an explanation. I informed them that hidden in the written rules governing school activities was a probably undiscovered rule (to them) against girls wearing the verboten garment called a culotte. I said that at some unremembered time in the past, they or their predecessors had adopted such a rule. Whether it was a good rule or a bad rule, I had no opinion, and I had nothing to do with its coming into existence. What I did know was that they had hired me to enforce their rules when necessary, and one of those times had just recently occurred. They went back and forth about the merits of such a ruling and whether maybe they ought to change it. The melon-business partner was especially nervous, knowing well the volatile nature of his friend. The school board was wavering, recalling the heated indignation of their patron and neighbor.
Being a relative bystander to most of the discussion, but seeing its tenuous nature, I realized the likelihood of the board capitulating in order to keep the peace. But I could also see the far-reaching effect of yielding at a point of pressure, especially over a very small issue. I spoke to the board in this vein, “I don’t care whether that rule is in the dress code or not. Culottes are ok with me, but because you say in your approved rules that they are out, they are out with me. I’m here to enforce your rules. If you yield to any angry parent and change in the middle of the year a regulation you have already approved, there is no telling who the next angry parent will be demanding a concession from you. If you don’t back me up when I enforce our rules, then tomorrow morning, get another principal. I’m out of here. If you want to change the culotte rule before next school year, fine, but not just because any angry parent demands it in the middle of the year.”
Seeing the logic of my contention, the board agreed to maintain the dress code for the present time and when back in session, the chairman reported its position to Ralph and Roseann. Meeting adjourned. Roseann had not spoken. I have occasionally wondered what the interaction at home had been preceding the scene in the boardroom. But perhaps now for the parents, the matter was closed. I thought so, at least until a day or two later.
To be concluded.